


Guns Ain’t Garanimals

by LanJevinson



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Drabble, Missing Scene, old work new post, one use of canon-typical racist slur, season two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 21:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13598835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanJevinson/pseuds/LanJevinson
Summary: A short and sweet 2x04 missing scene.  Mickey and Ian and the cardboard cutouts.Bite sized drabble!  One shot!





	Guns Ain’t Garanimals

**Author's Note:**

> [To set the scene](http://beautiful-ruiner.tumblr.com/post/169778205518), in case your s2 memory is foggy. Immediately after the famous one liner that is this fic’s namesake. 
> 
> This teeny tiny thing that should have stayed on tumblr (but I was worried about the use of the slur) was originally meant to be a scene within a larger s2 piece that's been scrapped. I was cleaning out my docs, found this, and tidied it up with help from [@thevioletjones](http://thevioletjones.tumblr.com/).
> 
> You can find me [here](http://lan-jev.tumblr.com/), but I'm not that active, fair warning!

Eager, Ian follows the sound of gunshots three blocks over, quickening his pace as he gets closer. It had been Mickey’s idea to hang out and shoot the shit - literally. He'd mentioned it in passing at work on Monday that he'd got a new handgun he wanted to try out, hinting in that faux nonchalant way of his, eyes shifting everywhere but Ian’s face and lip caught in his teeth, that it wouldn’t totally suck if Ian came too.

Of course, Ian had hastened to say yes, maybe a little over-enthusiastically, and Mickey had given him that look. That ‘don’t push your luck’ look. But whatever, they’re hanging out. Not just fucking.

Okay, so maybe they’ll do both.

Things have been so fucking good lately. Ian actually looks around for something wood to knock on as he walks, because he doesn’t want to jinx anything. They work together all the time. Mickey even shows up for his shifts consistently. One night last week, he even stayed until Ian closed up, even though his shift ended two hours before that. And yeah, okay, Mickey was pretty much just waiting around to fuck, but in the meantime they had just hung out and talked shit, and it was fucking awesome.

Ian rounds the corner and Mickey comes into view, back to him, arms raised in a shooter’s stance. It’s so fucking hot out that Mickey’s bare arms are glistening with sweat. Ian takes a moment to enjoy the view, then doubles back, coming at Mickey from the side like he’s been taught to in ROTC. Never sneak up on the guy with the gun.

“You started without me,” Ian says by way of greeting when he catches Mickey’s eye.

“Wasn’t gonna wait forever, princess,” Mickey jibes, tossing Ian a grin as he gestures with his head to the cardboard cutouts he’d been obliterating. “What do ya think?”

“Holy shit,” Ian breathes, moving forward to take in the half dozen cardboard figures, seemingly painstakingly drawn and cut out. “You made these?”

“Took me for-fucking-ever,” Mickey bitches, reaching down to snatch his beer. He watches Ian over the top of the can as he takes a long drink.

Ian can’t stop gaping at them. There’s a surprising amount of detail on each one. The Iraqi soldier even has a grenade in his belt and fucking pockets on his shirt. Mickey’d even tied some sort of cloth around the head. He turns back to Mickey, whose satisfied smirk morphs into something softer when their eyes meet.

“Thanks,” Ian says genuinely, and the softness in Mickey's gaze falls away.

Mickey snorts and takes another swig. “Didn’t do it for you. You ain’t the only one who fantasizes about shooting up towelheads.” He makes a show of watching himself crush the empty can, successfully avoiding Ian’s gaze.

“Yeah, whatever,” Ian concedes, hiding a grin of his own.

He knows Mickey better than that. This had been planned. Mickey cares about him. Mickey likes him. Maybe they’re even friends.

Friends who fuck.

Boyfriends. Secret boyfriends.

“My turn.” Ian holds out his hand for the gun and he’s rewarded with that grin again.

Mickey slaps the piece into Ian’s palm and steps back, crossing his arms. Ian takes Mickey’s place and raises the gun, keeps both eyes open, exhales. His first shot lands directly between the eyes.

“Beginner’s luck,” Mickey taunts from behind him.

“Think you can do better?” Ian challenges, mirroring Mickey’s playful raised eyebrow expression. And that’s all it takes.

Soon they’re passing the gun back and forth, calling out shots as they go. Ian’s obviously had more professional training, but what Mickey lacks in that area he makes up for in experience, so it’s a pretty fair match, all things considered.

“Booyah,” Ian hoots when his final shot to the ‘dick’ hits its mark. “Suck it!”

“Booyah?” Mickey repeats. “What is this, the nineties?”

“You like my trash talk.” Ian grins, taking in the way Mickey’s tongue flicks out to lap at his lower lip. “And yeah, you can suck it. I win.”

Mickey scoffs, but the flicker of heat doesn’t leave his eyes. He looks Ian blatantly up and down.

“You wish.”

Ian's not sure which part of his statement he's supposed to wish for, the winning or the sucking. He’s definitely wishing for the latter right now.

“What are you doing tonight?”

Mickey shrugs. “‘Probably get high. Why?”

“Wanna get high with me maybe?”

Mickey gives him an incredulous look. “You got money?”

“C’mon,” Ian laughs. “You’re gonna make me pay for my share?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Mickey grins, as he checks to make sure the clip is empty before tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans. He looks so different when he’s smiling openly like this. Younger. Hotter.

God, Ian’s so fucking into him.

His body is humming. All he wants is to feel Mickey’s body on his. His horniness makes him bold. He steps forward.

“How about,” he says slowly, his voice dropping as Mickey’s eyebrows rise, “you let me get high for free in exchange for me making you come so hard you see stars.”

His confidence falters a little as Mickey appraises him, but Mickey doesn’t disappoint. The tip of his tongue pokes out to wet the crease of his lips and he steps infinitesimally closer, eyes heavy lidded and heady. Ian stops breathing.

“We’ll see about that, Gallagher.”


End file.
